


Wrestling

by bunseok



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst?, Finger Sucking, Implied Strength Kink, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Religious Guilt, poor mark :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunseok/pseuds/bunseok
Summary: Mark didn't want to jack off to thoughts of his own friend, but it was two in the morning and he just wanted to sleep, damn it.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 17
Kudos: 272





	Wrestling

**Author's Note:**

> directly inspired by that video johnny put on his instagram story of him arm wrestling mark, which was followed by me seeing a tweet abt how mark definitely rubbed one out afterwards lmao
> 
> this could be a part of my "coping mechanism" series bc some of it is lifted p directly from my own experiences but im past that point in my life so it doesnt really apply anymore. anyways i feel bad for mark in this one

Mark had been doing a very good job at ignoring the clock on his bedside table. If he could manage to convince himself it _wasn’t_ 2 o’clock in the morning, maybe he wouldn’t be too stressed to fall asleep before the sun rose.

He had been doing a marginally worse job at ignoring his… Situation… That was keeping him up in the first place.

It’s not like he had never gotten a boner before. He was twenty one. And all things considered, two in the morning was probably one of the best times to pop one unexpectedly.

It’s just a little different when Mark knows _exactly_ what caused this particular case, and it’s _much_ different when that cause is, well. Is one of his best friends beating him at arm wrestling.

The memory from earlier that day was still fresh in his mind. Johnny’s ridiculously huge hand completely covering Mark’s, his flexed forearm thicker than Mark’s fucking leg. He beat Mark in less than five seconds. And he didn’t even break a sweat.

Mark would like to believe that he did a good job hiding how flustered he was right after, but turning beet red and quickly excusing himself from the room probably wasn’t the most subtle of solutions. Fortunately, no one mentioned it to him afterwards. Mark was choosing to take that as a good sign.

He had hoped to just forget about it, to fall asleep and maybe have a wet dream about it then move on. At least a wet dream would give him some semblance of plausible deniability-- You can’t control what you dream about, right?

But now Mark was laying in bed, fully conscious, willingly palming himself over his pants while thinking about--

Mark yanked his hand away from his crotch. No, no, we _aren’t_ doing that. We are going to sleep.

Mark turned over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.

Bad idea.

The position put friction on his desperate cock, and with his face smashed into his pillow like this, it was all too easy to imagine a certain someone pinning him down face first into his mattress, rendering him completely immobile with their giant, powerful hands on his back and shoulders, and…

Mark moaned.

He immediately flipped back over and clapped a hand over his mouth. His face felt like it was on fire, but his blood was running cold.

He wasn’t gay.

He _wasn’t_ gay, and he wasn’t going to jack off to thoughts about his _friend_. About _JOHNNY_.

Johnny.

His stupid brain was thinking very hard about Johnny now.

About Johnny’s… Smile, his laugh, his height, his broad shoulders, his giant hands, his massive fucking arms…

“Fuck,” Mark heard himself say as his hand found itself back to his crotch, now under his pants. He was palming himself over his underwear, and he couldn’t stop thinking about…

About the way that Johnny could always so easily pick him up and carry him around, about how small Mark feels when he stands next to him, about how good it feels when he makes Johnny laugh, about how good it might feel if Johnny… If Johnny…

Mark gasped when he started palming himself faster. He imagined it was Johnny’s hand instead. It would feel so much better, Johnny’s giant hands easily enveloping Mark’s cock. Johnny’s fingers were so long, too, so thick yet somehow nimble at the same time.

He would do such a good job fingering Mark.

Mark flipped back onto his stomach and stuck his hand down the back of his pants. Milliseconds before he reached his hole, he froze.

What the _fuck_ was he doing.

He sat straight up in bed. His hands felt dirty. His skin felt dirty. His _brain_ felt disgusting.

He wanted to take an ice cold shower. And go to church tomorrow. Oh, it had been a while since he went to church. Maybe that was why he was feeling like this. Some sort of punishment for not being faithful enough.

“I’m sorry,” Mark said into the darkness of his empty bedroom, and his own voice sounded pathetic to him.

“Please…”

Mark felt a thick lump rise in his throat. He swallowed.

“I’m not gay.”

Even in this situation, he knew how those words sounded.

And he still had a throbbing boner.

He laid back down, splayed out helplessly on his mattress. He had to get rid of this problem somehow, right now. He thought of his default, forcing himself to jack off to pics of women as fast as possible, but tonight this felt even more unappealing than usual.

“I’m not gay,” He said, more out of mindless habit than anything else. He heaved a deep, shaky sigh.

He covered his face with his hands and groaned, willing away the tears behind his eyes. Why him? _Why him?_

He asked himself how he got into this situation, which immediately reminded him of his little arm wrestling competition. A harmless game, who would have guessed?

He remembered the way Johnny looked at him during those short few seconds. His smile was friendly, but when he pushed Mark’s hand down to the table, there was something… Harder? Behind his eyes.

The thought of this dark glint in Johnny’s gaze sent a sharp jolt through Mark’s body, directly to his cock. His hands were splayed out on either side of his head on the pillow, and the image of Johnny pinning his wrists there flashed through his mind. Maybe Johnny would look down at him like that, with that same dark glare, making Mark unsure of what exactly Johnny was going to do to him. Mark would stare up at him, waiting to see Johnny’s next move, and maybe Johnny would… Would…

Mark’s hand was directly stroking his cock now, no fabric separating the two. When did he move his hand from his pillow to his crotch? He slid his other hand up his shirt, gasping when it reached one of his nipples. He pinched it and rolled it between his fingers, completely lost in his fantasy of Johnny touching him. He tilted his hips up into his hand and whined quietly, then moved his hand from his nipple to his lips. Maybe Johnny would like to stick his fingers in Mark’s mouth. Mark would love to suck on them, to make them nice and wet for when…

Mark flipped over and yanked his pants and underwear all the way off. This time, he didn’t stop before he reached his hole, and soon he was running his wet fingers around his rim.

“You’re doing so good,” Johnny said in Mark’s mind, his body pressed against Mark’s. He would feel so warm and heavy, leaning against Mark’s back, thick fingers teasing the rim of Mark’s sensitive hole.

Mark would whimper and cry and Johnny would praise him and reassure him and tell him, no, he’s not disgusting, he’s beautiful, he’s sexy and handsome and everything Johnny could ever dream of.

“You’re perfect, Mark. Don’t be ashamed of this. I’m enjoying this. Are you enjoying this?”

Mark started to bite into his pillow, and he put a hand back between his lips, imagining it was Johnny keeping him grounded with something to do with his mouth. Johnny would be thoughtful and attentive like that, he would know what Mark needed when he got too overwhelmed, and his fingers would taste so good…

Mark had one finger in his ass now.

It was the first time he had ever fingered himself. He had never gone this far before.

But it wasn’t him fingering himself. It was Johnny.

Johnny’s fingers were big and rough inside him, and Mark’s ass was already getting sore.

“Ah-- Hyung, hyung, hyung, fuck--” Mark gasped around the fingers in his mouth, pushing his hips back onto his hand as he pushed another finger inside him.

He cried out when he accidentally brushed against his prostate. His legs were shaking. Every single muscle in his body felt like a rubber band about to snap.

“Hyung, that’s too much, that’s too much,” Mark whimpered, but he kept pushing deeper.

“Shh, Mark, it’s okay,” Johnny murmured as he tried to find Mark’s prostate again. “You’re okay, just relax. Just let yourself feel it.”

Mark was sucking on his fingers like a starved man, an endless stream of “hyung, hyung, fuck, fuck, fuck, hyung,” spilling from his quivering lips. He bent one leg and lifted it closer to his chest, and he found he could reach even deeper inside himself in such a position.

He found his prostate again and zeroed in on it. Mark had literally never felt so much stimulation in his life. Every rub on that bundle of nerves felt like an electric shock through his entire body. All attempts at keeping himself quiet were out the window, and Mark could only vaguely hope these walls were thick.

Johnny wouldn’t stop his relentless milking of Mark’s prostate. Mark was squirming and sweating and shaking underneath him, but he just kept going, still murmuring gentle praise and assurance. The instant that Mark considered telling Johnny that maybe it really was starting to get too much for him, he felt his orgasm suddenly barrelling towards him. One final press against his prostate, coupled with an uninhibited scream right from Mark’s chest, “ _JOHNNY!”_ and Mark was cumming harder than he ever had in his entire life. His hips jerked forward into the mattress, and he pulled his fingers out of his hole to grip desperately at his pillow, biting the fingers still in his mouth so hard it hurt. He moaned and whimpered and gasped through his entire orgasm, and once it finally subsided, he felt like a puddle of jelly. His ass felt numb. His brain felt like static. He was panting, and it took him a few moments until he noticed the drool pooled on his pillow. He was fully aware of the big wet puddle of cum beneath him. Gross.

As he lay there, waiting for his strength to return to him, he also waited for that all-too-familiar sense of overwhelming guilt and shame to wash over him.

Ah. There it was.

Mark forced himself up into a sitting position, now with no choice but to face the mess he had made.

His blankets were everywhere, his sheets were probably going to stain, he had _no_ idea where his underwear was… And he had just jacked off to thoughts of his friend.

Actually, no, he hadn’t jacked off.

He had fingered himself.

He started to run his hands through his damp hair, but he stopped when he realized those same fingers had just been _inside his ass_.

God, Mark wasn’t sure he had ever felt so disgusting.

Oh, god. He could never speak to Johnny again.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, biting down the sob that had started to build in his chest. He had just irreversibly tainted what could have been a lifelong friendship. There was no coming back from this.

Mark was about to start his usual post-masturbatory routine of praying, repenting, then showering for a _long_ time, when an unexpected thought crossed his mind.

Those things Mark had imagined Johnny saying.

Mark couldn’t help but feel, that… Actually, those were things Johnny would actually say. Those were things Johnny had… Kind of already said to him before. All those times Johnny had calmed him down, comforted him, told him he would be there for him...

Maybe it was just the post-orgasm brain talking, but Mark couldn’t help but imagine that Johnny wouldn’t actually… Be so repulsed if he knew how Mark felt about him.

But _how_ , exactly, did Mark feel about him?

Mark wanted to curl up in a bed that wasn’t filthy with his own cum and sleep forever. He never signed up for this. He just wanted to make music, damn it, he never agreed to catch gay feelings for his bandmate, for the guy he lives with and eats with and works with and hangs out with and sees every single fucking day.

There was no avoiding this.

Mark picked up his phone from his nightstand and quickly found Johnny’s contact. Before he could change his mind, he typed a message and hit send without even rereading it.

**mark lee**

**3:03 a.m.**

Hey u up? I really need to talk to u abt something tomorrow. Pls dont let me chicken out haha

It was done. His fate was sealed.

He put his phone back down and stood up, preparing to toss everything he had touched tonight into the washer. Before he even started, his phone lit up and he turned to look.

**johnny**

**3:04 a.m.**

everything ok man? u can come over and talk to me right now if u want

God damn it. Mark had been hoping to at least put this off until tomorrow. Fuck Johnny and his horrible sleeping patterns.

Well, it’s not like he could act like he had fallen asleep in the time between his message and Johnny’s reply.

It was happening tonight, apparently.

He got fresh underwear and pajamas from his dresser and bid goodbye to the life he once knew. If he lived to see the sunrise, it would be a miracle.

With his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, Mark slipped out of his room and made his way towards Johnny’s.

He had no idea what he was going to say.

He had no idea what he hoped to even get out of this conversation. Maybe, just… Another arm wrestling competition.

**Author's Note:**

> please give me feedback, it keeps me motivated! thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
